STRIVING TO SILENCE DEMONS
by LinZE
Summary: While striving unsuccessfully to silence demons in one fashion it is often that the true solution becomes apparent.
1. Chapter 1

**STRIVING TO SILENCING DEMONS**

**Disclaimer: **Chances are anything you recognise doesn't belong to me and likely is the legacy of ACD.

**Summary:** While striving unsuccessfully to silence demons in one fashion it is often that the true solution becomes apparent.

**Authors Note: **While I've been writing fanfic for quite some time this is my first attempt at SH and more generally the first person narrative. Be kind grin but constructive criticism warmly welcome.

Enjoy

xLx

I am not certain for whom I write this account, for I know that these events are permanently etched in my own mind and ever will be. I also know beyond all doubt however, that I will never publish this tale, the true story that is still having rippling consequences in my life today. Holmes may in the past have accused me of defiling the world's impression of him by surrounding the facts of his deductions with romance and excitement, despite my protests to the contrary, but I never would, simply could not, show this side of him to his adoring public. He is a man of many facets, and I genuinely believe that after all the long years of our acquaintance I have only recently realised how much of this man I still struggle hopelessly to understand.

I cannot say exactly when the events that lead up to what finally occurred began, as I do not know myself, but I shall start my account on a February evening, perhaps a year after I had first taken over the medical practice I now call my own. Despite the amicable annulment of my engagement, I had chosen not to move back to 221b Baker Street but had continued to keep my own house. I did however visit my friend and sometimes colleague, as often as I was on that side of town and could spare the time. However, time was something I had found in short supply over the last few weeks. As seemed always to be the case at that time of year, the surgery had been inundated with patients. Thus said, I hadn't found the time to stop by my former residence in almost a month, so when I passed the end of the road at about nine o'clock on the cold, damp Thursday night in question I naturally thought to knock on the door and to share a pipe with Holmes before my next appointment.

I could never be sure whether I would find Holmes at home or not no matter what time of day I called by at, but having heard of nothing in the papers that I thought would be absorbing him, I judged that time to be as good as any to try. Almost as soon as I had wrung the bell, Mrs Hudson opened the door and ushered me in. I was immediately struck by her apparent agitation, unusual in the landlady who must have become used to seeing all kinds of strange goings on and unlikely people at her front door at all hours of the day.

"Are you quite well Mrs Hudson?" I asked when we stood in the warmth of the hallway.

"_I_ am quite fine Doctor, though I fear I cannot say the same for Mr Holmes." She replied in her distinctive Scottish lilt.

"Is Holmes unwell?" I asked, not for the first time fearing what he might have caught while frequenting one of the less reputable parts of the city at all hours of the night, especially in the despicable weather we had been treated to of late.

"I don't know if I would put it like that." She began, looking around her for the prying ears of some of the younger help. "Mr Holmes went out only half an hour ago, but I would be obliged if you'd spare me a minute of your time." She said indicating to the drawing room door. Taking off my hat, I followed her in without further questioning closing the door behind me. She sat herself down on a chair and signalled that I should do the same before she straightened out an invisible crease in her skirt.

"I suppose that it isn't really my business Dr Watson, but I'm worried about him." She stated plainly. "I can't be certain when his last case ended, but I know I haven't had anyone call for him in more than a fortnight. In any case, you know how he gets when he's left to stew." I nodded for I was well acquainted with the dark and brooding moods that her lodger was prone to fall into when not adequately stimulated. "Tonight's the first night he's been out of his rooms since Friday and well…" She was fingering something but her hand was in the shadow and I couldn't see what it was. "You know well enough that he doesn't let me near his rooms when he's like this so I thought when he was away I would go in, just to change the sheets and empty the bins." She added.

"Well no-one could you ever accuse you of not being dedicated to your job." I said lightly. After all, she had certainly taken her life in her hands with her actions.

"Hmmm, well it's just not natural the state he lets things get into… But I found something…" She paused again before lifting her hand to reveal what it was she had been holding. Between finger and thumb she held a small glass vile, which caught the light from the gas lamp behind her. I recognised it instantly for what it was, would have recognised it anywhere for I worked with them day and night, though I knew that this one had come from Holmes' Moroccan case and had up until recently, I suspected, held that damned 7 solution which plagued him. It was hardly the first time that I was aware of Holmes dabbling with the drug but as ever the knowledge was like a lump of ice in the pit of my stomach.

I had suspected for quite some time that Mrs Hudson wasn't nearly as naïve about her lodger's habits and proclivities as the casual observer might have supposed, but there was no condemnation in her eyes. This might have been due to a lack of understanding but yet I felt certain that there was more to it than that.

"I don't mean to interfere and Lord knows Mr Holmes is grown enough and masterful enough to take charge of his own life… Or at least he ought to be, but he hasn't been eating right, and now this… I'd feel much better knowing you had spoken to him…"

"Well I'll see what I can do." I said, purposefully not making any promises. After all of these years, I knew good and well that I wouldn't be able to exert any drastic effect on the 'masterful' Sherlock Holmes. Glancing at the clock on the mantel, I realised that I was going to have to leave if I was to get to my pre-arranged appointment. "I'm afraid," I said standing. "That I have to be on my way. If I can get away from my patient before too long I'll come back tonight, otherwise I'll be around first thing in the morning." She nodded, and I could see the relief in her posture. "I saw one of the irregulars outside, I'll speak to him and make sure that there's someone you can send should you need me before then." I added for good measure and with this she straightened and became the indomitable landlady that I know.

"Well thank you Dr Watson. I'll bare that in mind." She said leading me back out. After she'd opened the front door and I was about to step out into the chill night air she touched my arm though, just enough to attract my attention. "You wont tell him that I've spoken to you? Will you?" The earnest look on her face shocked me a little at the time but none the less I understood the reason behind her plea.

"Of course not." I replied honestly before tipping my hat to her and heading on my way.


	2. Chapter 2

**STRIVING TO SILENCING DEMONS**

**Disclaimer: **Chances are anything you recognise doesn't belong to me and likely is the legacy of ACD.

**Summary:** While striving unsuccessfully to silence demons in one fashion it is often that the true solution becomes apparent.

**A/N: **First off I just want to say thank you to everyone who reviewed chapter 1. I really do appreciate it. There were a couple of points I wanted to clear up though -

Hermione Holmes made a comment about Mrs H. reaction to the cocaine vile and the drugs uses in that age. I am aware that many of the drugs that we deem to be addictive/illegal were not thought so in the Victorian era (i.e. heroin tea parties were quite the thing amongst fashionable ladies…) none-the-less I think the fact that Mrs H. didn't blindly assume that if SH was using something that it was medicinal, shows a depth of understanding to her character.

In this chapter the drug plays a more major role and though I do study addiction and am relatively well versed in the most common drugs of abuse I do not pretend to be an expert. With the added difficulty that SH injects rather than smokes or snorts his cocaine I can only claim that I have done my best to keep his reactions authentic and realistic.

That said, hope you enjoy;

xLx

As it happened the elderly patient I had gone to visit was clearly not going survive the night and in the end I stayed with him until he passed on a few hours later. Having made sure all the arrangements were in place for the lonely bachelor, it was far later than I would deign to call without there being a definite emergency, so I returned home. Understandably though, I slept badly and rose early the next morning so that it was barely a half past seven when I found myself back in Baker Street. Before I crossed the street to knock on the door, I took the time to look up at the windows of the rooms I knew so well. The gas was lit, but down low despite the fact the sun had yet to come up and I was not reassured to see that the window was flung wide on so cold a morning. On reaching the young boy beneath the lamppost, a passed him a coin and thanked him for his time and he returned his thanks before heading on his way. I called him back on a stroke of inspiration however,

"Did you see Mr Holmes return?" I asked and the boy turned around just on the edge of the pool of light.

"Jus' after midnight sir. Heard the bells right clear I did."

"And did he seem…"

"Seem'd in a bit of a rush Sir he did, didn't say 'ello or nothin', and Mr Holmes is usual righ' good 'bout that."

"I'm sure he was in a hurry." I reassured the lad absently. "Thank you again Jones." I added before I turned and climbed the steps to the front door. It opened before I had raised a hand to knock and once again I was ushered inside by Mrs Hudson.

"Didn't hear a sound out of him till about ten minutes ago." She said in a hushed voice as she took my coat, hat and bag. "I don't know what he's been doing since then though." I had visions of Holmes shooting at the wall again or having taken to one of his experiments in chemistry as I climbed the 17 steps up to the apartment. Standing outside the door I could hear nothing though, not the sound of clinking test-tubes or even the familiar pacing that the rooms inhabitant regularly practiced. I had unconsciously leaned in towards the door to try and garner any clue as to what might be going on and jumped when there was a sudden burst of frenetic movement and noise from inside. I automatically turned the handle and pushed at the heavy wooden door to try and gain entrance but it was locked. I stood back and used my shoulder to try and force it spurred on by the growing sounds of distress from within. After several attempts I was successful in gaining entry to the room, only to tumble through the doorway and barely managed to stop myself from falling to the floor. When I did regain my balance it took me a further moment to take in what it was that I was seeing.

The room looked as though I violent storm had ripped through it, and in it's turn ripped everything from it's given place. There was paper everywhere, the wicker-chair by the fire was upturned and there were books scattered all over the floor. I had to purposefully search the room to find Holmes, and in fact, I managed to locate him only when I did because of the shriek he let out. I have seen Sherlock Holmes in many guises and many states of mind and yet, even to this day, I have never seen him in anything like such a bad condition as I found him then. He was huddled like I frightened animal, in the corner next to the window, hair in disarray wearing only his shirt and trousers. He called out and threw his arms up, as though he was trying to fight something off. Out of his incoherent babbling I could make out but a few words.

"No… no… stop!" Whatever it was he saw in his minds-eye, it was something terrible for even when he looked up, his terror was plain to see in his feverish eyes. When I snapped out of my startled inaction I crossed the room in only a few strides and knelt down next to him, and did my best to attract his attention.

"Holmes! Good heavens man!" I said trying to hold down his arms so that he didn't to himself or I any further damage for it was plain to see that he didn't recognise me for who I was. "Holmes!" I tried again to distract him from the fictional monsters he was fighting. I suspected that the crash I had heard just before I entered had been the table that had once held his experimental equipment being toppled over. It had been overturned and several of the stopper-ed flasks had broken and I could do nothing but watch as their contents pooled on the floor, growing closer to Holmes bare feet as his legs stretched and contracted in his fight. He was radiating heat and I could feel his heart racing in his emaciated chest, so much so that if I had not seen the half empty vile on the fireplace next to the discarded needle, I would have thought that he was in the grip of a terrible fever. He arched within my grasp trying to free himself from my hold, his entire body wracked with tremors and if I had not been so certain that the damage he would have done to himself would have been no trifling matter, then I would have let him free for fear of being hurt myself. Eventually, I managed to manoeuvre so that I was behind him, and could hold his arms to his sides with far greater ease. He sat between my legs and with one of my arms wrapped around his chest and arms holding them tight, I used the other to cradle his head against the crook of my neck. Realising that my first priority had to be to try and ground him, I began speaking to him as I would a distressed child, encouraging and calming him the best I could. While continuing in my content-less stream of reassurances I managing to find a pulse in his neck and I began counting it while I talked.

If there is one advantage to cocaine when compared to the alternative drugs of abuse I have some knowledge of, then it is that it's effects are not long lasting. It was however quite plain that Holmes had taken far more than his usual dose and for some time I genuinely feared for his life as his heart and respiration rate soared while I knew there was nothing, medically speaking, I could do to prevent it. Due to the drug's transitory nature however, he began to calm after not an overly long period, the shudders lessened and the convulsions loosened their grip upon him.

"Holmes?" I tried again, hoping for some sign of comprehension. I received nothing but a faint flutter of his eyes. Now that the worst of the fit had past, I thought it best to move us from the dangers of the still spreading chemical spillage, and moving him to the bed had the added advantage of allowing me a far better position from which to judge my companions state. Holmes is certainly a good half-foot taller than me but even in the best of health, or at least in the best condition I have ever seen him, he likely weighs no more than I. When I lifted him that day however, I required little effort and no strain and I shook my head to myself once more, at yet another example of Holmes' stunning disregard for his own well-being. I carried him through to his bedroom and laid him down on the fresh clean sheets. I reached for his wrist to check his pulse and was alarmed when I could only locate a faint thrum beneath my fingers. Automatically I pushed his open sleeve up high so that I could see what I was doing and in doing so I revealed the tourniquet that was still fastened just above his elbow. I released it quickly but couldn't take my eyes from the mess of injection sights that marred the soft flesh. There were one or two scars that were obviously very old, but most of the marks were recent, within the last week, and at least three more that were no more than twelve hours old. I ran I thumb over the bruised flesh, gently feeling the wounds as though I could trace the cause of my friend's behaviour from the injection sites. Subconsciously I noted that though some of them were red they didn't burn as though with infection. Shaking my head I moved my hand down to rub the rest of his arm so as to stimulate the return of the blood to the previously deprived flesh.

Reaching over I used his other arm to gauge his pulse rate and was relieved a little to find it significantly lower than it had been in the height of his convulsing. He was still radiating residual heat and his hair stuck to his forehead as I brushed it out of his still closed eyes. I was torn between calling for Mrs Hudson, who undoubtedly deserved to know at least a little of what was going on and my hesitance at leaving my patient's side. Tentatively though, I made my way to door into the sitting room and leaving the door to his inner sanctum open, crossed it swiftly and, leaning out of the door into the hall that I had previously broken, called out to her. I turned back into the room, and my sight was once again drawn to the Moroccan case and the associated paraphernalia on the mantelpiece. A light knock on the door let me know that my former landlady had arrived. To her credit her face didn't flinch when she stepped over the threshold and into what could, quite easily have been a war zone.

"Dr Watson?" She asked hesitantly.

"Mrs Hudson." I tried to reassure her with a smile and I suddenly found that I didn't know where to draw the line between trusting someone who obviously had Holmes' best interests at heart, and propriety and privacy. "Let's just say, my arrival was timely." I told her non-explicitly but I saw her eyes quickly take in the needle and half empty cocaine vile next to me.

"Mr Holmes…." She asked.

"Is not out of the woods yet but I have every faith that he hasn't managed to kill himself through his own neglect yet." I tried to keep the mood light but I was certain that she understood what I had meant.

"I've told Susanne and the boy that they are to stay downstairs unless they're expressly told otherwise." I nodded my appreciation. "Now, I've got some old towels that will do to mop up all that." She indicated towards the still spreading puddle of chemicals on the floor. "And I am quite sure that the rest isn't quite so urgent." She added and I couldn't help but smile as she glanced around the room. "Is there anything I can get for you Doctor?"

"Plenty of fresh water and a flannel should be all for now. Thank you." I said and she quickly bustled off to meet my requests.

**A/N – **Thanks for reading and do let me know what you think.

xLx


	3. Chapter 3

**STRIVING TO SILENCING DEMONS**

**Disclaimer: **Chances are anything you recognise doesn't belong to me and likely is the legacy of ACD.

**Summary:** While striving unsuccessfully to silence demons in one fashion it is often that the true solution becomes apparent.

-I returned to find Holmes almost exactly where I had left him and pulling closed the door I set about removing what was left of his clothing. Undoing the buttons of his shirt, I opened it to reveal the pale expanse of skin that I had been expecting, but I was still caught off guard by the prominence of his collarbone and ribs, echoing the jutting cheekbones that I had noted earlier. My growing resolve that this time I could simply not sit back and hope that a new case would come to Holmes' attention to drive him off this self destructive course was turned to concrete as I couldn't help but pause to take account of what I was seeing. I carefully peeled the shirt, damp with cold sweat, from off his shoulders before easing him back down onto the sheets. I had expected that my manoeuvring of him would have been enough to draw him back to consciousness but there was still nothing to suggest that that was the case. On a slightly paranoid whim, I paused again and reached for his wrist. His pulse was steady now, and having reassured myself of that much I set about removing my patient's trousers. As a medical man, I have removed more garments of clothing from more people, from more walks of life than I care to think about and it has never bothered me greatly, yet I paused before doing this for the man I care for above all else. I shook myself out of my uncharacteristic hesitation though, and undid the buttons in a flash. I noted as I pulled them off that the fabric of bottom half of his legs were significantly damp, not as I first thought because they had been drenched by the chemical spillage, but the grit and dirt embedded in the fabric suggested that this was because he had been walking about through puddles and gutters presumably, the previous night. This served to back up my suspicions about where it was he had ventured last night and why it was that he had gone out at all.

-As I was pulling the sheets up over his prostrate form, I could hear the sound of movements outside, and when I opened the door I found a basin of steaming water, a jug of cold water and a stack of flannels and towels. I moved them inside and mixing the water so that it was tepid, carefully bathed him and dried his skin before searching out a nightshirt and dressing him once more. It was only when I wiped his brow with a fresh cloth that I noticed the first signs of him waking. His forehead creased as he groaned slightly before his eyes fluttered open. While an unexpected feeling of relief swept through my more sentimental side, the medical man in me quickly noted that his pupils were still unnaturally dilated and he was obviously still disorientated. I watched as he licked his lips and turned his gaze naturally, upon myself.

"Watson?" His voice quiet and faltering and in that instant I was reminded of a scared child.

"Yes. It's me." I answered softly, once more brushing the hair out of his face. After a valiant struggle he succeeded in pushing himself up on his elbows and looked towards the partially open door. "What in the good Lord's name were you thinking man?" It came out, and in a tone far harsher than I had initially intended it to. He looked at me as though I had asked him the meaning of life and it was a minute before I got an answer.

"It… It wasn't working..." In that moment, when he looked back towards me, his expression was so open and vulnerable, so unlike the man that I had come to know that the anger that had welled up in me so quickly was gone in a flash, ebbing once more into genuine concern. He glanced from the open door back towards me, his agitation obviously growing.

"It's alright, calm down old fellow." I urged, using a hand upon his shoulder to push him back against the pillows. His eyes were already drooping once more and though he seemed to want to fight it, his body's demand for sleep was too strong for him to win the battle. As I had learned was typical of Holmes after having taken the solution he slept, though fitfully for the next several hours, stilling however, at the touch of my hand or at a quiet word in his ear.

-It wasn't until Mrs Hudson knocked on the bedroom door several hours later with a tray in her hands, from which the smell of freshly baked bread wafted temptingly towards me, that I realised quite how hungry I was.

"I thought perhaps you might like some lunch doctor." She said as she entered but hung back towards the door. She could obviously read my hesitation as I looked at once from the bed to the tray. "Now Doctor, it looks as though Mr Holmes is sleeping well enough for the time being and you'll be little good to him later if you're hungry and exhausted. I'll quite happily sit with him till you've eaten and caught up on some sleep." Her matter of fact way of talking was persuasive in the least and I let her usher me into the living room. It was obvious that she had been at work within this room, as though, by no-means back to its usual state of cleanliness it was now possible to see the floor. There was a distinct chill in the air, which I hadn't taken the time to notice on my initial entry to the room, but there was now a blazing fire in the grate and I settled next to that to tuck into a healthy stew. I ate heartily and once I was done, settled down on the sofa where I had spent many a night previously. I lay there for some time but the thoughts that were chasing themselves through my mind made it impossible for me to rest. Every time I closed my eyes I saw my friends terrified face pleading to me from that shadowy corner as he fought off his demons. I could not tell whether the se phantoms he faced came from his past, his work or his tortured imagination, but wherever their origin I wanted nothing more than to banish them. Giving up on sleep I sat up went to help myself to a cigarette from the box on the mantel. As I lit it and took my first draw I spotted once more the contents of that accursed case spread out on the shelf. Working on what I knew, that Mrs Hudson had found an empty vial the previous evening, and my assumption for the time being that Holmes' excursion the previous night had been to acquire more of the drug, the fact that the glass was perhaps half empty was yet another piece of evidence as to actually how much of the solution that he had injected within a relatively short period of time. I could hear that almost desperate statement he had made to me earlier, _"It… It wasn't working…"_. The question was whether Holmes had been referring to the fact that the euphoria he had usually attained had not come with the first dose, or even the second, or whether it had been reference to what it was he was attempting to escape with the help of the drug. Whether it had failed to drown out the voices and thoughts I knew haunted him during periods of inactivity. It was a question to which I did not know that answer.

-I must have been well and truly caught up with these thoughts for it took several moments before I was roused from my contemplation by the sounds of muffled voices. Through the haze of sleep I managed to fathom that Holmes had awoken and seemed to be causing Mrs Hudson some difficulty. As soon as this thought was processed I made no hesitation in going the bedroom door and on entering was immediately reassured and relieved to see that my friend was not only awake but sitting upright and looking far more coherent than he had done the last time we had spoken. It was however quite an unusual scene that met my eyes, with our landlady obviously imploring her tenant to remain in bed, while he was obviously not so set on the matter. Holmes did however have the blankets pulled up to his chin and seemed more than a fraction uncomfortable at the obvious scrutiny he was being placed under. He had just begun to counter whatever it was that Mrs Hudson had been saying as I opened the door when suddenly he began to cough. Within moments he was in the grip of a fierce coughing fit and my automatic reaction was to go to him.

"My bag if you'd be so kind." I asked the alarmed housekeeper as I dropped to my knees next to the bed and tried to urge my companion to sit upright and try to calm himself.

-It was several minutes before the hacking eased enough that Holmes was able to lean back against the bank of pillows behind him, and it was quite plain that the episode had worn him out entirely as he lay there, panting almost. Mrs Hudson had arrived with my bag in the mean time, before removing herself once more and allowing us a little privacy. Pulling my stethoscope out I proceeded to unfasten the top of my patients nightshirt and place the diaphragm on his chest. Holmes however did not seem convinced that this was a good idea and tried to bat me away. I however was persistent; I had spent long enough in the medical profession to know that there had to be something underlying that kind of cough.

"Breath in." I told more than asked him and tried to ignore the murmur of his complaints to concentrate on the sound of his lungs. Having satisfied myself that I'd heard all there was to hear I proceeded to place a hand against his forehead and another on his wrist to catch his pulse. It was plain to see that he didn't approve of my 'fussing' but I blocked out the fact of who it was I was treating from my mind and simply sought to diagnose any problem. Considering that by the time I had left to eat lunch his heart rate and temperature were both back within normal limits, the increases that I found now, along with the wheeze and rattle coming from his chest were enough to convince me that Holmes's condition was not down to his recent binge.

"How long have you been coughing for?"

"I have no idea what you mean." I bit down on my own tongue reminding myself that to raise his ire would do nothing to help my patient's condition.

"Well you have a slight temperature and that's a nasty cough. Not that I should be surprised, considering you've obviously spent some extensive time sitting in damp clothes in the freezing cold and quite plainly haven't been looking after yourself." Though he seemed to do his best to avoid my eyes he didn't say anything. Sighing, I shook my head a little and wandered towards the fire. Having poked at the coals to rekindle the flames, I turned back to face the bed. "Fine then. At least let me have Mrs Hudson bring up some broth…"

"Watson really…!" He began exasperatedly but soon was caught up in another bought of coughing.

"Holmes old chap," I tried again once he had calmed somewhat. "Try, just for me please, to be at least a little civil. You know that what I'm doing is for the good of your own health." He 'hmph'-ed slightly at this but made no further vocal objects. When the broth and tea arrived he balked at being fed but took the spoon up and at least made a gallant attempt to eat what was put before him. Perhaps it was the sixth sense like those that mothers claim to have about their children, but it didn't take the slight green colour that tinged his face or even the fashion in which he pushed away the bowl to know that his body was not going to accept this nourishment. I watched as he obviously struggled to prevent the revolt but reached for the basin none-the-less suspecting, correctly ultimately, that not even Holmes' resolve was going to be enough this time.

**A/N: **Once again, thanks for all of your reviews. Hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did….

Let me know either way,

Linds

xxx


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